


Sense Of Home

by MelindaLorenaSanna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fantasy, Fluff, Harpies, Hurt, Hurt Derek, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaLorenaSanna/pseuds/MelindaLorenaSanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets hurt, Stiles gets upset, comforting ensues....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sense Of Home

Furies. It was a god damn Fury. As in the ‘full of vengeful justice against wrongdoers’ kind, the ‘naturally drawn to places of magic like most creatures i.e the nemeton residing in Beacon Hills’ kind and also the ‘particularly hung up on familial murder’ kind which left one Peter Hale with what was essentially a huge black ‘X’ marks the spot on his back. While Stiles had grown to like Derek, to the point where he considered them good friends, Stiles loathed Peter still. Somehow it's difficult to forgive someone who bit a chunk out of your childhood crush and ignited some supernatural death gift. Oh and lets not forget the whole offering Stiles the bite too in a totally creepy way. Derek on the other hand wanted him alive, Stiles guessed killing one of the two last relatives he had was a step too far, he sympathized he really did but it didn't stop him from wanting to leave throw Peter to the dogs. As far as they, and the bestiary, were concerned the furies would leave the innocent alone meaning the rest of the pack were safe.

Nevertheless the pack followed their alpha and Stiles tagged along more out of loyalty than any preternatural pull towards obedience to Derek much to Derek’s chagrin. Derek always seemed slightly disappointed that the werewolf magicky stuff didn't work on Stiles. They devised a clear and simple plan; hide Peter, distract the furies, separate the furies, kill the furies.They all overlooked a slight issue which brings Stiles to the present day, the sounds of agony coming from the back of his Jeep as he speeds on to Deaton’s house praying to every God that he’s awake and in the mood to co-operate. Among the overall annoyance and general irritation at Peter’s existence and all the complications and snark he gave the pack everyone forgot that there once was a time when he was dead (a time that Stiles relished). More specifically when Derek had ripped his throat out with his claws. So when they arrived, innocent and non-murder worthy to the furies’ den in the woods they turned with huge black wings and eyes that turned white with rage and headed straight for Derek. Derek who was bleeding out on his seats.  
“It’s okay buddy we’re almost there” Stiles said, trying to remain calm as he ran a red light. His dad was going to kill him.  
“Stiles I’ll be fine... you can stop with the noise” Derek returned with gritted teeth “your heart beat is ridiculous”  
“Maybe that's because someone I ca-, someone I’m friends with has their insides spilling out in the back of my car!” snapped Stiles, “sorry for being a bit concerned.”  
“Stiles…” Derek edged, a gentler and more patient tone creeping into voice “I’m going to be fine”  
Stiles drew in a shaky breath and tried to relax his shoulders “yeah I know Sourwolf, couldn’t get rid of you if I tried” he turned his head slightly to throw Derek what he hoped was a smile, weak as it was. Derek had his eyes shut but a faint smug smile graced his face as he sprawled across the back seats.  
Stiles rounded the corner to Deaton's house and saw a light on upstairs “thank fuck” Stiles muttered before piping up, more for his own benefit than Derek’s “we’re here!”. Stiles knew this routine by now, knew what to do first and when to do it, he hated to think of all the late night calls at Deaton’s the pack had made over the last year. Stiles pulled up into his drive haphazardly and was out of the car barely before he turned off the ignition, he rapped on Deaton’s door loudly and was back at the car in seconds trying to coax Derek out gently “C’mon bud, almost there, just put your arm round my neck”.  
Derek groaned his name as Stiles tried to move Derek’s arm round his shoulder but Stiles ignored him and tried not to look at Derek’s pale face, the sheen of sweat on his forehead or the mess of his lower torso.

“Stiles.” Derek said more forcefully heaving in a broken breath afterwards making Stiles wince at his condition, but pause nonetheless.“Look at me” Derek said as he placed a hand on Stiles face and forced him to look at him in the eyes “I’m going to be fine, calm down, breathe for me”  
Stiles silently nodded his head but tears were threatening to spill over, he had to get it together. Thankfully Deaton was at the other side of the car wrenching the door open, together they managed to get Derek inside and laid on the couch without too much damage to Derek.  
Stiles sat on the floor by the couch feeling helpless as Deaton hurried round his house gathering what he needed, he looked at Derek's glassy eyes and sickly pallor and all he saw was his mother lying in a hospital bed. He couldn’t shake the thought that he couldn’t save her either.  
“Stiles you’ll have to remain calm if you’re going to help Derek” Deaton said as he reentered the room and bent over Derek’s limp body, injecting his arm with a clear substance “I need you to keep him conscious and focused on you, can you do that?” the way he phrased it sounded like more of a statement than a question, one to focus Stiles, who hadn’t realised he was crying until he looked up at Deaton and all he saw was a blurry image.   
“Ye-Yeah” Stiles’ voice cracked, he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and gave a more resolved “Yes”, he sniffed and squeezed Derek’s hand tighter, he also hadn’t realised he’d been clutching it to his chest since they were in the car.   
He knelt up on his knees and leaned over Derek pulling his face towards him, his eyes were shut but fluttered open at the gentle but firm touch of Stiles’ hands on his face.   
“...Stiles?” he mumbled, slurring his words but leaning into Stiles’ touch.  
“I’m here...you’re okay Derek...you’re going to be okay just like you told me remember?... I’m here now” Stiles murmured over and over to him with Derek giving him a ghost of a smile in return or leaned into his touch a bit more as Stiles brushed the hair from his forehead.  
“The sedative will hold off the worst of the pain but he needs to stay awake in order to heal faster, even for a werewolf losing this much blood can be dangerous” Stiles only nodded his head in response.  
It seemed like hours before Deaton spoke again and gave Stiles’ shoulder a gentle squeeze breaking the trance-like state he’d been in “I’ve texted your pack members letting them know Derek’s healing”  
Stiles hadn’t even thought to contact the others, he’d just took off with Derek in the back of his car not even knowing if the pack had won the fight, a wave of shame and horror washed over him which Deaton seemed to notice “They’re fine, a bit bruised perhaps but glad their alpha is okay, I told them not to bother Derek until tomorrow morning”  
Stiles sighed “thanks Doc” glancing over at a now sleeping Derek.

It wasn’t until Stiles had driven out to the preserve and gotten a semi-conscious Derek into bed that the anger washed over him. He sunk onto the foot of Derek’s bed, head in his hands replaying the night over in his head. What the hell was he thinking!? Panicking in the car when Derek had needed him to remain calm, crying like a child at his side rather than helping Deaton, not letting the pack know what was going on - he’d cracked under pressure. It was stupid and weak and it could have gotten Derek killed. The pack must have been anxious all night at the radio-silence, wondering if their alpha was ever going to make it home to them. Stupid. Weak. Human.  
“Stiles… I can hear you thinking from here” Derek stirred, a wan smile on his face but his eyes still shut.  
“Maybe it's just the rain”  
Derek ignored him “Thank you for tonight”.  
Stiles snorted “yeah great help I was crying like a damsel in distress over her fallen knight” he pushed himself to his feet to walk away but Derek caught his hand looking more alert than he’d been since the fight.   
“It’s natural to worry about your pack members Stiles” he said frowning.  
“some great pack member I make, I didn’t even let the others know what was going on! oh and lets not forget how amazing I was in the fight back there, I kept you safe didn’t I”  
“Stiles this isn’t your fault, you’re not supposed to protect me”  
“Thats not the point! I couldn’t even if I was supposed to! I’m hopeless at all this… the packs better off without a helpless human at their heels”  
At this Derek make what can only be described as an indignant squawk and he tugged Stiles down, there was a brief second where Stiles thought bitterly that even a wounded werewolf was ten times stronger than he could ever be, before he hit Derek’s chest. Derek shifted himself so Derek was looming over Stiles “Never say that again.” Derek’s eyes bore into Stiles’, searching, trying to make sure Stiles understood what he was trying to convey. He didn’t.   
Stiles decided to go for cheek to alleviate the intensity of the scene “you know I don’t think you should be manhandling people in your situation”  
But Derek just stared more, held Stiles firmer, “Stiles. You are invaluable to this pack” his face sunk into a wounded expression as he searched Stiles face as if it were a puzzle he needed to figure out “how could you think I-... we’d be better off without you?”   
And no way, nope, Scott’s puppy dog eyes were bad enough but Derek’s were infinitely worse, Stiles couldn’t cope with the big bad alpha looking so broken because of him, Stiles just knew Derek was finding a way to blame himself.  
“Hey this is just one of your average weekly meltdowns okay? We all know I’m the best thing that’s happened to the Hale pack in the last 50 years” he gave an accompanying smirk hoping to reassure Derek, after a few moments it seemed to work. Derek’s hands slid from his upper arms and he shifted to lay down beside Stiles.

What Stiles didn’t account for was Derek to simply sink down, his arm thrown over his torso and his legs tangled with Stiles’ before sliding his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck. Derek breathed in deep and all the tension slid from his body. Stiles took a moment full of confusion and bewilderment before remembering that Deaton had administered a heavy sedative and chalked Derek’s suddenly tactile state up to that. Derek let out a satisfied hum when Stiles gave in, running one of his hands in Derek’s hair, the other resting on his hip careful not to disturb the bandages there.   
“G’night Stiles” came Derek’s muffled voice after what must have been half an hour of just silence, steady breaths and comforting absentminded strokes.  
Stiles couldn’t help the small content smile that creeped onto his face “Night Der”.  
And if Derek felt an overwhelming sense of home at the nickname and placed a gentle chaste kiss to the hollow of Stiles’ neck in return? Well neither of them mentioned it. Maybe just held on a little tighter as they fell asleep to the sound of rain hitting the window pane.


End file.
